


404 ~ The Demon Not Found

by sharkcoochieboard



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angel/Demon Relationship, Angels, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, DNF, Demons, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Love/Hate, M/M, Mild Smut, Non-Graphic Smut, Other, Slow Burn, dreamnotfound, dreamwastaken - Freeform, georgenotfound - Freeform, mcyt - Freeform, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:56:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27774163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkcoochieboard/pseuds/sharkcoochieboard
Summary: “So now,” he grunted as he was pulled up from the dirty street, “what are you going to do? Kill me?”Dream laughed, and the melodic sound ricocheted off the brick walls around them. A car horn honked in the traffic at the other end of the dank alley, and a slight drizzle began dripping from above.“Of course not, Geo- I mean, 404. I’m going to help you.”The infamous 404, nicknamed the "demon not found" is caught by the equally famous Dream, an angel who has a tendency to let his compassion overrule his reasoning. He manages to subdue the demon by using his real name, George, and swears that he is going to save him--healing him back into the angel he used to be.CW//DNF, Mild violence & blood, eventual non-graphic smut. Please note that I do not ship them IRL, and always remember to respect content creator's boundaries. Both parties have stated that they are fine with these sorts of stories, but if they ever state otherwise I will delete this immediately.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 56
Kudos: 142





	1. The Demon Not Found.

Dream leaned down and plucked the cigarette out from between George’s lips, tossing it down the alleyway. The smell of smoke and sewage burnt his nostrils, and he sheathed his sword between his wings.

“You’re littering,” George said, before looking up and spitting into the blonde’s face. Dream grimaced, wiping the saliva away. 

“Humans litter all the time.”

“You aren’t a human.”

“Neither are you, George.” Dream put an emphasis on the name. The shackled demon flinched hard, groaning in pain from where he was cornered on the ground.

“Don’t-don’t  _ fucking _ call me that.” The ravenette looked up at the angel, whose silver wings were tucked neatly behind him. 

Dream sighed and stretched them out, before stepping forward and placing a firm hold on one of George’s curled horns. With his other hand, he yanked the smaller man up by his arms, which were handcuffed behind his back. The demon attempted to escape his grip, but the angel’s hands were steadfast. 

“So now,” he grunted as he was pulled up from the dirty street, “what are you going to do? Kill me?”

Dream laughed, and the melodic sound ricocheted off the brick walls around them. A car horn honked in the traffic at the other end of the dank alley, and a slight drizzle began dripping from above.

“Of course not, Geo- I mean, 404. I’m going to help you.” 

He adjusted his grip so that his hands had a firmer hold on George’s horn body, and he stepped even closer to the demon, positioning his legs so that they were nearly intertwined. 

“I don’t  _ need _ help. Especially if ‘help’ is a code word for whatever this weird way of making a move on me is.” He twisted his nose into disgust as the angel wrapped himself around him. 

“Oh, shut up. It’s easier to carry you this way.” 

“Carry me? What the he-- _ DREAM _ !”

Dream flapped his massive silver wings aggressively, launching them both off of the ground and into the air with a gust of air. George’s sentence turned into a scream as they became airborne, and he curled closer to Dream out of an impulsive panic. The two hurdled through the sky faster than George could comprehend, and soon enough his anxiety overwhelmed him, leaving him limp in the angel’s arms. 

“Shit,” Dream murmured to himself as he noticed George pass out.  _ No wonder he was so vulnerable, _ he thought. Underneath his arms, he could feel the jagged stubs in the demon’s back where his wings used to be.

He flapped his wings harder, picking up speed until the human world below him started to glitch and grow discolored. Less than two minutes into the flight, he pushed through the barrier into his homeland, where he settled his feet onto the soft grass outside his cozy chateau. The wildflowers that surrounded the entrance seemed to spring to life as he walked past them, still carrying the unconscious demon, and he rushed inside before George could wake up and resist. 

When George did awaken, he found himself lying in a large, soft bed, the sheets so comfortable that he didn’t want to open his eyes and face whatever mess he had gotten himself into. However, he soon remembered where he was and what had happened and let out an audible “fuck.” 

He blinked his eyes open and looked around. The room was of decent size, the walls painted a pale blue that glowed in the warm light of various candles. One candle was on a chestnut-colored desk that sat beneath a window across from the bed, three were floating up near the ceiling, and one was on the nightstand next to him. A note was tucked underneath it. 

_ The tea is ginger, it’ll help with the flight sickness. _

_ Also, I didn’t know if you like vanilla or chocolate, so I left both. _

_ Let me know when you’re ready to chat. _

_ \- Dream _

Next to the candle was a steaming cup of tea and a small plate with two scones on it. George scoffed.  _ So he’s mocking me before he kills me. How am I even meant to eat if--oh. _

His train of thought ended abruptly as he stretched his arms from behind his back and found that the shackles had been removed. Sitting up, he also saw that the doorway had been left wide open, and he could see down the hallway. 

“What is he, an idiot?” He muttered quietly. He never would have thought that the famed “Dream” was so stupid. He yanked the sheets off and made for the exit. 

A loud yelp rang out down the hallway as an electrifying shock traveled through his shoe up to his skull, and he was thrown backward into the bed. 

“What the  _ bloody fuck _ ?”

“Oh, you’re awake.” Dream appeared instantly in the doorway. 

“I left the door and window open so you don’t get claustrophobic, but you can’t go through them. I’ve put a barrier up in the perimeter. And yes, the barrier is in the walls too, so no trying to knock them down, please. It would be really annoying.” 

The demon sat up again, and pinched his forehead with his hands, letting out a deep sigh before making eye contact with the angel. 

“Why haven’t you just killed me yet?” 

“I already told you, George,”

The demon made a strangled noise. 

“Crap, I’m sorry. I already told you, 404, I’m going to help you, not hurt you.”

“Well if you don’t want to hurt me, could you  _ please _ stop saying my real name?” He winced again.

“I won’t. Well, unless I need to. Have you tried the tea?” His emerald eyes softened and he motioned to the steaming porcelain cup. George stared back into his eyes with a blank look. 

“Have I tried...Have I tried the goddamn tea?” The sentence started out as a whisper but turned into a full yell as he picked up the cup and flung it directly towards the angel’s head. An intense fury suddenly unleashed itself from George’s soul, and his blood started to boil. 

The blonde ducked swiftly, but some of the hot liquid landed on his hair and forehead. The cup shattered behind him. George jumped up from the bed. His brown eyes glowed a fiery orange as he stepped forward until the only separation between him and Dream was the invisible barrier in the doorway. 

Dream kept his face neutral as the man approached. He brought his hand up close to Dream’s face and curled his fingers into threatening claws. 

“Do you have any idea who I am?” he snarled. 

“You’re 404.”

“ _ Exactly _ . Four-oh-fucking-four. They don’t call me the demon not found because I’m always hiding. It’s because anyone who comes into contact with me is  _ never seen again _ . Got it, softie?” 

Dream stood still, unwavering in his eye contact. 

“The second I find out your real name, you’re going to be writhing in pain for years. I’ll leave you---” 

“George.” 

He growled in pain. 

“Calm down, George.”

He fell to the floor. 

“I am going to save you, _ George _ .” 

He shrieked and dragged his claws across the hardwood. 

They fell silent, the only sound being George’s heavy breathing. Dream knew that George was a demon, and he knew that the pain was only temporary, but he couldn’t help feeling guilty. 

“I’m sorry I had to do that.”

“I’m going to  _ kill _ you, Dream.”

“No, you aren’t,” he sighed. The blonde lowered himself onto the ground, sitting cross-legged in the hallway. He leaned forward, trying to find George’s eyes. Eventually, the demon’s head turned slightly from the floor and side-eyed the angel. His eyes were red and watering, and it was obvious that he was in pain. Dream opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated before the words came out,

“I could feel the stubs where your wings used to be, 404. They can grow back. You don’t have to be this way.” 

George stayed silent in his position on the floor. 

He cleared his throat and spoke again.

“How...how did you lose them?” He asked delicately. 

With a swift kick of George’s foot, the door slammed violently in Dream’s face.


	2. Tempation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first escape attempt.

The demon sat on the floor for a while longer, contemplating if there were any possible escape routes he could take. There was the window opposite from his bed, the door and breaking through the walls. After the blast from the door, however, he didn’t think that Dream was bluffing about the magic barrier surrounding him. 

Dream. The name left a sour taste in George’s mouth. Angels were annoying--George would know, he’d been one of them. They walked around all high and mighty, trying to fix all the problems of the world. It couldn’t be done, they knew that their work would never be finished.  _ So why do they even try _ , he thought to himself. 

_ And why is the damn angel trying to fix me?  _

The brunette scoffed and finally pulled himself up to his elbows. Frankly, he felt a little sick from the flight, the shock from the barrier, and his conversation with the bothersome angel, and the scones _ did _ smell good. 

He subconsciously scanned the room before finally picking up the vanilla scone off of the plate and taking a small bite into it. Warm, sweet vanilla filled his mouth, and he finished it in only one more bite, the temptation of finishing it too strong to resist. 

_ Hm. Temptation _ , he thought. A brilliant idea entered his mind, and he formulated a plan to escape.

\---------------------

Dream was sitting in his large study, reading one of the golden-bound books on the intricacies of human language, when he heard his name being called from upstairs. 

“Oh, Dream...can we talk?” 404’s voice sounded polite, nearly friendly. 

_ There’s no way he’s already feeling better, _ Dream thought. As suspicious as he was, he complied with the demon’s request. He set his book back in one of the tall, dark oak shelves of the study and floated up the stairs of the chateau because he couldn’t be bothered to walk. At the top, he turned down the hallway and saw that the door to the guest bedroom was already open. 

George was still on the floor but was now sitting up against the edge of the bed, next to the nightstand. The few pieces of shattered teacup that hadn’t crossed the barrier were neatly gathered on the plate, where only the chocolate scone remained. 

He also noticed that the demon had taken off his long tie, and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. 

“Uh, what do you want to talk about?” The angel asked, keeping a neutral expression as he approached. He leaned against the doorframe but didn’t dare step inside. 

“I think...I’m feeling a lot better already, actually.” The demon smiled innocently, looking up at Dream, who crossed his arms in disbelief. 

“Oh, really? How so?” He cocked an eyebrow. 

“I feel...nicer. Friendlier,” he paused, and raised a finger up to show that he was thinking, “More wholesome.” 

Dream sighed. 

“And  _ why  _ is that?”

George stood, and moved towards the doorway. Dream stayed where he was. 

“I think it was your influence, Dream.” 

“You’ve been here less than a day, 404.” 

“Maybe I’m easy,” he leaned against the doorframe on the other side of the slightly twinkling barrier and stared into Dream’s dark emerald eyes. 

“You still look like a demon to me,” Dream said,not breaking eye contact with the demon. He stood a bit taller, showing that he was unafraid of the man. A few moments passed, and contrary to him making a statement of strength with his eye contact, he found that instead, he was  _ unable _ to tear his eyes away from the demon’s. His normal mahogany eyes seemed to glow orange from behind his pupils, and the world outside of George’s gaze gradually grew hazy. 

“Maybe,” the demon bit his lip, “I just need a little more affection.” 

His eyes glimmered even more, and he slid to the ground again, sitting on his knees in front of the blonde angel. 

“Why don’t you come here and show me some?” He breathed out, maintaining his mesmerizing eye contact with Dream. 

“I can’t...” Dream felt a tingling feeling grow across his body, and he shivered. He wanted to break eye contact with the demon, but he felt trapped in his smolder, unable to look away. 

“Oh, I think you can Dream. I think you  _ really, really want to _ .” He lifted a hand and extended his claws, motioning Dream forward with his pointer finger. 

“I do,” The angel whispered. His body moved on its own, stepping through the doorway without a conscious decision to do so. He moved through the barrier with ease, the shimmer lingering on his blouse. George, still on his knees, wrapped his hands around Dream’s legs, and whispered,

“Why don’t you take down that barrier, baby?” 

Dream felt compelled to listen to the demon’s orders, and the temptation of his current position was making his mind feel fuzzy. Blood was rushing to the lower part of his body and by _god_ , he wanted to give in entirely. The rational part of his brain was holding together by mere threads, and as he stared into the brightly glowing eyes it started to slip away. 

“I can’t do that, 404…” He managed to say. 

The demon huffed quietly and rose slowly from his kneeling position, running a hand smoothly across the front of Dream’s body as he did, hesitating briefly in a particularly sensitive spot that made the angel’s stance falter briefly. 

_ He’s being so damn difficult. _

Dream felt frozen at this point, completely absorbed in George’s eyes and the gratifying feeling of his hand. When his hand reached Dream’s head, he cupped his face and whispered as low as he could, his lips nearly touching the angel’s.

“If I kill you, will the barrier fall?” 

Dream’s eyelids were nearly closed, and his heart rate was out of control. George could see the blush prickling beneath his skin, threatening to turn him cherry-red. He moved his hand from Dream’s face to stroke one of his wings, and as he did, the blonde shivered again.

“I...uh,” he breathed. 

“Go on, tell me Dream,” He said with a smirk, working his free hand down to the lower part of the angel’s body and eliciting a small noise from him. 

“ _ G _ - _ George _ …” 

The demon flinched instantly, digging his hand into Dream’s wing and pulling away the other. He closed his eyes and hissed. 

At the break in eye contact, the fog in Dream’s brain evaporated instantly. He blushed a deep, scarlet red and hastily retreated behind the barrier, tucking his wings tightly behind him. 

“ _ George! _ What the _ fuck _ is wrong with you?” He yelled. The raging feelings of desire were replaced with anger. Anger and embarrassment.

George yelled at the sound of his name being spoken a second time, a guttural, feral sound. 

“I figured it was worth a shot, wasn’t it? It worked better than I thought,” He smirked, eyes blazing. He winked at Dream despite his pain.

“ _ Sit down, George _ .” He commanded, spitting the name out with furious intensity. George growled again, and he stepped back a few times before crumpling onto his bed. 

Dream breathed heavily in the hallway. He stopped himself from saying the demon’s name again, although he wanted to be merciless with the man. More than angry, he was ridiculously embarrassed, bringing his hand up and pinching his forehead in exasperation. 

He knew _ exactly  _ what enchantment the demon was trying to perform. He had read about it over a thousand times and had even had plenty of demons try it on him before. Those demons had always failed or given up fairly quickly. They had always failed because in order for the enchantment to be successful,

_ the target has to find the demon attractive, _ Dream thought. 

His ears were burning, and he fled down the hallway immediately, not waiting to see if George was still conscious or not. As he slammed the door of his bedroom, he made a mental note to be extremely careful in letting any eye contact with the demon linger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was so self-indulgent bye I promise not all the chapters will be like this


	3. Burgers

Once again, the demon found himself blinking into consciousness on the bed. A dull ache resounded through his limbs, but he found himself giggling. 

To be quite honest, he hadn’t expected it to work as well as it did. If only the damn angel hadn’t said his name. 

“Ugghhh,” he breathed out, sitting up.  _ If I can’t get out of here, what the hell am I supposed to do for entertainment? _ He thought to himself. 

The demon sheathed and unsheathed his claws a few times, debating his options. Calling Dream over could be potentially fun, but the angel was most likely still very angry, and George would seriously prefer to not hear his name being spoken out loud again. 

_ Not now at least _ , he smirked to himself. On the desk underneath the window, there was a quill, some ink and a stack of parchment. He looked down the hallway to ensure that the angel hadn’t left his room, and went to sit at the desk. There was no need to rush an escape plan, he would get out eventually, and kill that blonde bastard. In the meantime, he could use a bit of relaxation. 

The sun painted a dreamy color onto the hills that he could see from the window, and the horizon was dotted with flowers in a plethora of colors, not that George could really differentiate between most of the shades. It was beautiful nonetheless, and the demon went to work painting the scene onto one of the pieces of parchment.

His violent hands turned gentle, delicately painting the ink in thin strokes to capture the view from the window. Eventually the sun fell below the hills, and he pulled a candle down to float gently next to him as he painted in the dark. 

The situation left his mind, his brain focused on capturing the raw beauty of the world instead of being focused on capture, torment or escape. It was a pleasant high, and for a brief moment, he could even forget he was a demon. Until he was interrupted. 

“...at all. Any requests?” 

“I’m busy,” he muttered softly, not paying attention to the voice speaking to him. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Wait what?” He dropped the quill and spun around, his muscles tensing up as his focus was torn from the painting. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The demon whipped around in the chair and instead of the snarl that Dream expected, the man’s eyes were wide with surprise and an innocence Dream hadn’t seen before in his eyes. 

They made eye contact for a moment, but Dream could see the recognition set in and the glare return in his captive’s eyes. 

“I asked if you had any requests for dinner,” The angel said. He leaned against the doorway again, but this time further from the barrier.

“All you’ve had is a scone.”

“What is your issue, Dream. Am I a house guest or a visitor?” George said, standing up swiftly from his chair and shoving the painting off the desk. 

“You make me suffer until I pass out, and then offer me dinner like we’re old friends? I’ll kill you!” Anger burst from his face once more, and his horns seemed to radiate with heat. 

Dream sighed softly but kept his face blank. He’s so temperamental, even for a demon, he thought. 

“Any requests then?” 

George growled, and his claws extended from his fingers. He seemed to almost shake from anger for a moment and then spat. 

“I really like cheeseburgers.” 

The anger vanished, and his smirk returned a moment later. 

Dream had to stop himself from bursting out laughing at the display, but a small smile crept out despite his attempt to keep it in. 

“Toppings?

“Lettuce, ketchup, and onion.” 

“Drink?”

“Vanilla milkshake.”

“What are you painting?

“Fuck off.”

Dream sighed. _ I’ll have a look when he’s asleep _ , he thought. They stared each other down, but Dream shifted his wings and turned away. 

“I’ll be back soon,” he said. 

“I’ll be...here,” George muttered behind him. 

The angel made his way out of his chateau, and shook his wings out, preening them with his hands. The white suit he wore was definitely too fancy for a human burger chain, so he stripped off the jacket and changed his shoes to look more “business-like” as they would say. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, tousling it gently, and took off with a leap. 

The same way that he had flown home, he headed back to Earth, changing his direction only slightly. As he broke the cloudline into the evening sky, he turned himself invisible and floated down onto a busy street. 

Dream materialized himself in the middle of the people walking by, and thankfully no one seemed to notice his sudden appearance. A sign above his head flashed brightly, reading 

**Schlatt’s Scraps, “the best burgers in town!”**

_ That’ll do.  _

He walked in casually and stood in line. A few women stared, but that was typical. The presence of an angel was always enchanting, even when they were hidden. 

“What can I do for ya?” The grizzly man barked as he stepped to the front of the line. 

“I’ll have…,” he scanned the menu, “The chicken tenders and a large fry.” He flashed his beaming smile and stuck his hand into his pocket to materialize some money.

“That all?” The host grumbled, punching the order into his machine. 

“And 5 cheeseburgers, please. With lettuce, ketchup, and...and…,” 

Crap, what was his order? He panicked momentarily. 

“And _ onion _ ! That’s what it was! And a vanilla milkshake, large.” He pulled a silver debit card out from the pocket, deciding that it was most likely the least suspicious move. 

The host scoffed, but his mouth tilted into a crooked smile. 

“Feeding the whole office?” 

Dream chuckled, “No, just a  _ very _ hungry boss.” 

It was almost true, demons had massive appetites, and George hadn’t had a proper meal in over a day. He was sure that he would have no problem devouring the burgers instantly. 

“By the way, I’d like to pay for the people in line behind me. All of them.”

The man’s eyes widened, astonished at the request. 

“Sir, that’s--”

“Actually, I’ll just leave this card here, there’s a thousand in the account, if your business today doesn’t spend it all, donate the rest.” 

Dream winked as he finished the sentence, and the man shivered as he took the silver card from the angel’s hand.  _ Who said angels couldn’t be chaotic? _ He thought, amused with himself. He thanked him profusely, and so did the customer’s behind him whose meals were now free. Dream shook each of their hands, transferring a small bit of relaxation to them through the touch. The air in the restaurant became jovial and warm, and Dream felt a sense of peace from his tiny miracle. 

Eventually, his order came out, and he made the journey back into the sky and to the chateau, where his stubborn captive’s stomach was grumbling.


	4. Guilt

The stupid angel sat on the floor, right outside of the barrier in the doorway. 404 didn’t know what had possessed him to sit on the floor in front of the bed, facing Dream so that they could eat together. At least he had gotten the order correct.

_It’s just boredom,_ he thought, _that's why I'm sitting with him_. He was already tearing into the second burger--literally tearing it up with his claws and teeth. Admittedly, it was delicious. 

“What did you say it was called again?” He asked between bites. 

“Schlatt’s Scraps, it was near where I found you actually,” the blonde answered with a smile. 

“Wow, it’s fucking good,” George gulped, “ I’ll have to go get some myself once I’ve  _ killed you _ and escaped.” He returned the angel’s friendly gaze with a mocking grin. Dream’s expression faltered for a moment, but the neutral, content look soon returned. 

“Or we could go together once I’ve healed you.” 

“Give it up, _ birdy, _ ” George groaned, “how many times has this method actually worked for you? Kidnapping a demon and so-called fixing them?” 

“I’ve never tried it before.” 

“Why am I your test subject?” 

“Because you’re the worst demon ever.” 

“What?” George spat a chunk of burger onto the floor and glared at the angel. 

“You’re hardly a demon, 404. And you know it.” 

“I’ve killed people! I’ve left bodies in places that no one will find them!” George’s eyes flared angrily, and he felt an icy heat run through his veins and the taste of blood wash over his tongue. 

“I’ve destroyed families. I’ve stolen lives,” he was screeching now, anger blocking out every other emotion.

“I’ve seduced so many fucking hum--”

“George.” 

It was calm, collected and gentle, just enough to shut the demon up. 

“Yes, you’ve killed people, but only because you were forced into it. And yes, you’re the demon not found or whatever because you hide the bodies of your victims, but why do you hide them?” 

Dream stood up now, walking even closer to the barrier until his nose was practically touching it. His eye contact felt scorching to George. The intensity and genuine kindness in his eyes was overwhelming. 

“You see,” Dream continued, “I have a theory about you, George.” 

Ouch. The demon slunk to the floor, letting out a soft groan of pain. 

“My theory is that you feel guilty about killing those people. You hide the bodies so that the person’s loved ones still have hope for their return. I’ve read your case file, 404. You have only ever killed humans that you have been ordered to kill by your ruler himself. And--” his voice faltered, piquing George’s interest. He looked up to see a light pink blush dust across Dream’s smooth skin. 

“--and don’t even talk about seducing people. You’ve only ever seduced humans who already found you attractive, and they would have slept with you anyways, regardless of your enchantment. You’re a horrible demon,” he stepped through the barrier, and George didn’t stop him from kneeling down on the ground in front of him and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“And my theory is that you’re a horrible demon because you used to be an angel.” 

With his other hand, he lightly caressed the brunette demon’s cheek, and titled his chin up to meet his gaze. 

The anger faded. In its place George felt sad, tired, 

and  _ guilty. _

The handsome blonde was right, George knew it was true. He used to be an angel, and a damn beautiful angel too. When the beast had torn his wings off and cursed him down into the depths to suffer for eternity, a violent rage had entered his soul. So violent, in fact, that he had sprouted curled horns and turned into a demon himself. 

His wings. He missed his wings more than anything. 

“Let me help you, 404. Imagine how relieved you’ll feel when the anger is gone, when the violence is over, and you can paint the pretty sunset every day.” 

Dream was looking him deeply in the eyes now, and George knew that this was his chance to enchant the angel: seduce him, kill him, and escape, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

His fluffy blonde hair framed his face so handsomely, and his touch was caring, protective and genuine. 

_ I want to be fixed, please, fix me, make me an angel again _ , his thoughts screamed. 

He sighed, and turned his head away from Dream to break the intimacy. 

“It’ll never work, Dream. Can I just have a cigarette?” 

He turned back to Dream, whose face melted into a slightly disappointed look. 

“Uhm, sure, I think I have a pack downstairs. Be right back,” he muttered, getting up and crossing the barrier to the other side. 

“Actually, wait, Dream.” George ran his hands across his horns in frustration, before standing and approaching the barrier.

Dream turned back around, a hand carefully placed on the doorframe. His wings shimmered, and his forehead was knotted with worry. 

“Yeah?” 

“Can I actually…”

_ What the fuck am I doing?  _ George thought to himself.

“Can I actually, uhm, kiss you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having difficulty creating more plot for this story, so it will likely end next chapter or the one after that. I love the concept for it, but it's hard to maintain for a huge amount of chapters. Oh, and just a warning, the next chapter will probably be NSFW, but it won't be anything too graphic, or weird.
> 
> update: I'm on chapter 8 now, I got re-inspired, it will probably be 10 or 11 chapters total :]


	5. Tension Boils over Eventually

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW// this chapter has violence and blood.

“This feels like some sort of tactic,” Dream replied calmly, “to escape.” He felt a shiver run down his spine at the request. The demon was attractive, with his slender frame and piercing brown eyes, but Dream had learned his lesson about looking too long into them. He didn’t believe that George would hurt him, but he certainly could seduce him long enough to escape if given the opportunity again. 

_ Who knows,  _ Dream thought,  _ maybe he  _ **_is_ ** _ dangerous. _ From everything Dream knew about him, he seemed like he wouldn’t hurt someone on his own accord, but maybe he  _ was  _ truly corrupted. 

Maybe he would kill the angel, given the chance. 

Dream fluffed his wings and ran his hand through his floppy blonde hair. If this were a trick, why the hesitation in George’s words? Why were his cheeks turned a bright red, his eyes averted to the floor?

“It wasn’t, I was just,” the demon gulped, waving the claws that he had extended from his fingers, “you know what:? It was. It was a tactic to escape, but you’re smarter than me now, so forget it. Can I have those cigarettes?” 

He was acting strange, embarrassed even, so Dream complied, not wanting to make him feel more uncomfortable. He floated down his grand staircase into the kitchen, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from a kitchen drawer, and a small trash bag to pick up the remnants of their burger meal. He returned to his captive’s room and tossed him the pack, kneeling down to pick up the trash and the food that had spilled onto the ground in the midst of their confrontation. 

“I’m going to enter the boundary now, are you going to hurt me?” 

“Not right now, I need a fucking break.” He hopped onto the bed, leaning against the wall and hugging his knees to his chest as he let out a puff of cigarette smoke. Dream made his way cautiously to the other side of the room, opening the window above the desk for the smoke to exit. On the floor, he spotted the painting and knelt down silently to pick it up.

It was beautiful, although it was just black ink. The hills and flowers were captured in a way that invoked a sense of longing in Dream, a sense of nostalgia for something he couldn’t put a tongue on. He could only imagine the way it would look if it were painted with real paintbrushes and colors. 

“George, this is,” he heard a yelp as he turned around, and then a grunt as the demon threw himself off the bed and towards him. 

_ Fuck, I used his real name.  _ He allowed George, who was still wincing in pain, to tear the painting from his hands without a fight. 

“Fucking shit, Dream, did you really have to attack me again? And then look through my belongings?” His eyes flamed, but he didn’t make any attempt to claw at the angel. 

Guilt washed over Dream like a wave, melting his heart into a puddle.

“Damn it, Ge-404, I’m so sorry, I really am, I didn’t mean to say it. I just got overwhelmed by the painting, it’s amazing.”

“Yeah? Well, you can--oops,” George cut himself off, whipping his head back to the bed where had dropped the cigarette. The sheets were already burning, and a large hole formed in the blanket. 

~~~~~~~~~~

George’s bones ached from the use of his real name, but he ignored it, seeing the small fire start to grow on his bed. He and Dream both lunged for it at once, hitting one another accidentally while trying to put it out. They succeeded, and both of them chuckled nervously for a brief moment. George wanted to thank the blonde angel for complimenting his artwork, he wanted to thank him for the meal and perhaps he even wanted to ask Dream to reconsider the offer he had impulsively put forth. 

That part of him was obscured, however, by one simple fact. He was a demon. Because of this, frustration and humiliation burnt brightly in his throat and his limbs, engulfing him once more into a rage. 

“Now look what you’ve done,  _ idiot. _ You caused me to burn my bed. The one comfortable place I could sleep in this stupid prison cell you call a bedroom.” 

They were both leaning over the bed, hands stacked almost on top of one another from their attempt to smother the flame. Dream’s gentle eyes looked apologetic, and as he opened his mouth to speak, George lurched his head rapidly, hoping to stab him with one of his horns. 

Dream jumped back swiftly, ducking out of the way. The demon growled, completely overtaken with his instincts, and slashed forward with his claws. 

“I”m sick of this shit. Stop playing nice, you  _ useless pigeon _ .” 

Dream ducked away, but tripped on the desk, giving George the opportunity to lash across his face and down his throat with a searing sharpness. 

Dream cried out, spreading his wings wide and slamming them forward. A gust of wind emerged forcefully from them, and George felt himself lift off the floor and fly back into the wall, hitting it with a loud thud. The impact was so powerful and painful that he felt like he had been hit by a train. He opened his mouth to yell, but no sound came out. 

The tension of the last few days seemed to culminate in their battle, with the full extent of George’s fury at his captor finally unleashing. There was no possibility that they wouldn’t have ended up in this mess, it was only a matter of time before the two creatures would boil over. He had been dancing around, enticed by Dream’s ideas of curing his condition, hopeful at the idea that he wouldn’t be a demon anymore. 

_ Now,  _ he thought,  _ now I’ve ruined it. _ He let his body roll off the bed and onto the floor as he felt another gust of wind from Dream’s wings. He looked up at his gracious kidnapper, who now stood over him, blood seeping profusely from the claw marks that trailed down his face and throat. His eyes were wild, a fit of feral anger in him that George hadn’t even seen when he was being kidnapped by the man in the first place. Dream's nostrils flared, and he wiped the blood from his mouth.

“You’ve fucked up, George.” 

George groaned at the sting that ran through his body. 

“I’ve been nothing but nice to you,  _ George, _ ” he spat.

The sting turned into the feeling of knives across his back. 

“All I have wanted to do this entire time was help you, George,  _ George, George geo _ -”

“ _ Please!  _ Please stop,” George wailed, curling as tight into a ball as he could. The pain was unbearable, reaching every inch of his body and ripping him to shreds. It felt as though static shocks were coursing through every cell in his body. He closed his eyes, unable to keep them open any longer. The angel had fallen silent, but George’s pleading whimpers continued. 

“Please stop, please stop, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” 

He tried to open his eyes, and the last thing he saw before he faded completely into unconsciousness was Dream’s face go pale, and him fainting onto the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got a little darker than I had planned, but I still promise a happy ending :]


	6. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actions have consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW// This chapter has blood, violence and themes of death.

The angel snapped suddenly back into consciousness and saw streaks of red running across his vision. A dull ache resounded in his head, and fire danced across his throat. He was slumped over the end of the bed, and the sheets below him were stained mercilessly. 

“Fucking hell.” He barely managed to whisper. On the floor next to the bed was the pale figure of George, who thankfully appeared to be breathing. With a small groan, He managed to pull himself onto his feet, only enough to steady himself. He picked himself up weakly with his wings and applied pressure to the wound on his neck as he floated out of the bedroom and into the bathroom at the end of the hall. 

He leaned down to open the cabinet next to the sink, and his wings failed him, dropping him onto the cold tile floor. 

Dizziness overtook him, and his head felt like a balloon full of helium.  _ I’m losing too much blood,  _ he thought.  _ He must have hit an artery.  _

With a shaking hand, he opened the cabinet and pulled out a ceramic jar and bandages. The lid of the jar proved to be stronger than he was in his current state, so he struck it against the sink in order to access the shimmering silver cream inside. He sighed heavily and slathered a thick glob of the substance onto his neck and the side of the face where he could feel the claw marks. He cried out at the freezing feeling, painful in its unique power, but soon the feeling turned fuzzy and refreshing. It eased the pain, and the bleeding slowed. Without taking care to wrap them nicely, he bandaged himself up as best as he could, wrapping it around his neck, shoulder, and the right side of his face, obscuring his vision in one eye entirely. He leaned against the wall of the bathroom, breathing in the pain and the uncertain predicament he was in. 

A small part of his brain thought he should just take the miserable creature out of existence. It's what angels had been doing for thousands of years to protect humanity. His heart told him that was wrong--he could fix George. He knew he could. 

In fact, perhaps the outburst meant it was working. Why would he react in that way, if not for overwhelming emotion, overwhelming guilt? 

_ One last shot, _ he thought to himself. His body ached. One more chance to try and save the hauntingly beautiful fallen angel. 

The bandages were already stained with dark blood. It was too dangerous to fall asleep on the bathroom floor, he would die from the blood loss. A fleeting burst of adrenaline flowed through his veins, and he managed to grab it weakly as it passed. He used it to pull himself off the floor and stumble to his bedroom, where he could contact someone to save his life. 

_ Who can be here fast enough? _ His brain grew muddy again, the adrenaline fading and death knocking at his front door. 

_ Sapnap.  _

_ I need Sapnap. _

_ ~~~~~~~ _

George was drowning. Thick, dank water filled his throat and lungs, and he tried to cough but found he couldn’t. His eyes burned as if acid had been poured directly into them, and his thoughts were swirling faster than he could think them. 

_ Mother. Father. Where are you?  _

_ Why?  _

_ Why did you abandon me?  _

_ Wings. Torn from his back in the ultimate act of cruelty. Of punishment.  _

_ Why did they take my wings? _

The horns began sprouting from his head before the wounds on his back had even healed. He tried to fly, so often forgetting that he had been chained to the confines of the Earth and the world underneath it. 

The acidic feeling spread through his limbs, his ears now filling with the liquid. He heard bottled voices as he thrashed his limbs, looking for any escape from his demise. 

_ “Kill him, 404...you don’t want to defy me…” _

_ “Don’t you remember me at all?” _

_ “Leave no survivors.”  _

_ “I’m going to save you.”  _

_ Dream. Where was Dream? He promised that he would fix me, where did he go?  _

The image of him slashing across the angel’s throat with his claws flashed in his mind. Dream fell limp across the end of the bed, bleeding profusely. 

_ You killed him, George. You killed him. Now you’ll be left to rot in this room forever.  _

_ I killed the angel. I killed my angel.  _

_ My angel. _

He gulped in the liquid and knew he would die too. It was only fair. It was the righteous thing to do, accepting the consequences of his actions. 

He was fading from existence, suffering in a way that he had never felt before. Death was closing in rapidly, he could reach out and grab its hand. 

He did just that, and as his fingers brushed against the fingers of the eternal void, he woke up screaming. 

Screaming, shaking, sobbing. He didn’t want to face reality. He wanted to return to the nightmare, it would be better than opening his eyes and seeing the dead body looking at him with lifeless eyes. 

He kept his eyes closed, wanting just a few more moments to himself. 

“404?” 

How evil. How evil of his mind to play tricks on him in such a way, making him hear the voice of the tenderhearted angel as if he was still alive. 

“Are you okay? You were pretty uhm, fucked up.” 

“It’s not real. I killed you. Don’t make me speak with your ghost.” 

“I’m not-” there was an uncomfortable laugh, “I’m not dead.” 

George finally cracked an eye open and realized that he was no longer on the floor, but had in fact been lying in his bed the entire time. 

Leaning against the doorway, with the tips of his wings stained pink from blood, was Dream. His blonde hair was bright as it ever was, and his entire neck up to around half of his face was wrapped tightly in bandages that extended all the way down his right arm. His smile was soft, concerned, caring. 

In his hand was a white bag, with tufts of blue paper hiding whatever was inside. 

The demon was shaking, and water was running freely down his cheeks when he realized that his angel was alive. 

“I got you this, as an apology,” Dream said, lifting the bag and placing it on the nightstand. “You don’t have to open it until you’re ready, and I can leave you alone for a while longer too if you need.” 

George pushed the side of his face into the pillow and pulled the sheets tight around him. His throat burned. 

“I’m so fucking sorry, Dream,” he rasped, “please-please don’t leave.” 

“I believe you now. I believe you can fix me.” 

  
“I  _ know _ I can fix you, 404.” 


	7. Dream's Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Healing. Justification. Newfound pain.

The angel hesitated at the door, unsure of whether he should give George space. He was shocked that he had apologized and seemed so vulnerable--as if he was the one who got half of his face torn off. 

Against his and Sapnap’s better judgment, he made his way towards the bed and sat on the edge of it, looking down to where the demon was crying into his pillow. 

_“He’s too dangerous, Dream, you have to give up!”_

_“Give up? I haven’t even started!_

Sapnap had saved his life. He thought about how he had hazily made his way to his bedroom and barely been able to contact the angel before passing out again. His body was tired, too tired to continue, and even though he had managed to sloppily bandage his wounds, he had known it wasn’t enough. 

When he woke up again, he was in the guest room of Sapnap’s castle. He had spent nights in that room plenty of times before, but not for a reason like this. 

Multiple runes had been drawn all over his shirtless chest, and bandages were applied much more neatly around his face and neck. He blinked open his eyes and saw his scruffy friend sitting in a chair beside the bed, drooling. 

_He must have been waiting to see if I’d wake up,_ Dream thought. Water threatened to pool in his eyes, and he cleared his throat. 

“Ughm, Sap…?” His voice was hoarse. There was no response as the brunette continued his rest. 

“Sap--Sapnap?” Dream said more forcefully. This time, Sapnap flinched with a small noise and woke up. He looked around the room for the briefest moment, before locking his eyes with Dream. 

“Holy fuck, you’re alive!” He yelled and nearly threw himself on top of Dream. The blonde gave a pained grunt, and Sapnap pulled away instantly. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I just--shit, Dream, I thought you were dead for sure. I thought you weren’t going to wake up, I thought,” he gulped, “I really thought you were gone.”

“Thank you so much Sapnap, I love you brother.” 

“I love you too, brother.” 

  
  
  


The demon sniffled.

“404, I’ve...I hope you know I don’t blame you for what happened. I know it’s your instinct.”

The demon turned his head, looking at Dream with swollen eyes.

“I’m a fucking monster, Dream. You were right you know, about everything. I don’t want to be a demon anymore. It hurts, it hurts every day,” he choked for a moment, hiccupping before continuing. 

“They say it’s easier when you just give in. If you let the instinct overtake you, let the-the violence overtake you. It’s like I have this insatiable bloodlust. Sometimes I can’t help it, no matter how hard I try, I just get so angry…” he trailed off into another sob, turning his face back into the pillow.

Cautiously, Dream put a hand on the demon’s shoulder, and he shrugged to get away from the touch. 

“Would you...do you want to see what I got for you?” He asked softly. 

George stayed smushed into the pillow a moment longer before sitting up. He swung his legs around the side of the bed so that he and Dream were sat next to one another. His nails tore through the paper atop the bag, but Dream could tell he was trying his hardest to be gentle. His face was red, and his hair extending in nearly every direction. Uneven stubble dotted his chin and neck, and he was shaking slightly. 

What have I done to him? Dream lamented in his mind. He had given up pretending that this was merely a research experiment, or that it was a coincidence that George was the demon he had captured in order to fix. It was personal. The project was no longer about fixing a demon, it was about saving George. 

_But why?_ Dream thought. _Why him, of all demons?_

He had justified it at first with George’s backstory, the tragic tale of a young angel captured and his wings ripped off, only to be replaced by horns and a tail. When he read the case file, he was able to piece together that George was by no means an ordinary demon. As he had recounted to the brunette before their fight, he noticed the pattern in his deeds: only perform acts of evil when forced to do so, and hide the body so that the loved ones didn’t have to see the violence that had been enacted on the victim. He had never forced himself on anyone, man or woman. He had seemed almost...compassionate. 

That’s why Dream had picked him to test his theory on. His theory of saving demons. Saving people was no problem, and angels did it all the time. Saving a demon was proving to be much, _much_ more difficult. 

Sapnap hadn’t bought his justification. He had told Dream to give up and put the wretched demon out of its misery. Dream couldn’t do it though. He sat on the bed next to the demon, wrapped in bandages that hid injuries so severe he had nearly died, and he still couldn’t bring himself to give up on George. 

Perhaps he couldn’t give up on George because he could feel the guilt that radiated from the man’s aura, or because he had seen the concern in his eyes when he realized he had hurt Dream. Perhaps it was the way he had painted that gentle scene, somehow creating beautiful imagery that danced around Dream’s head using only black ink. 

Maybe it was because he was handsome, and Dream was a fool.

“Dream,” George breathed out, “I...I don’t deserve this.” 

George had discarded the bag and paper, and in his hands he held a set of swirling paints, glowing in their bottles, and a rolled-up case of very fine, expensive paintbrushes. The ashamed innocence in his voice was endearing. 

“You do, Ge--404, you’re an amazing artist. I could tell by that ink painting you did.” Dream felt the tips of ears grow hot, and he fluffed his wings nervously. 

The demon laughed suddenly, and it was different than his usual snicker. It was gentle, playful, the sound of a jingle bell ringing.

“What?” Dream asked, trying to hold back a confused smile from creeping across his face. 

George laughed a little harder and brought the paints up into full view of both of him and the angel. 

“It’s just,” he giggled, “I’m fucking colorblind. Half of these paints look yellow to me.” 

Dream chuckled, shaking his head. _I forgot._

“Shit, of course you are, it was in your case file. I’m sorry, I should have just gotten you a set of blues.” 

“No, no,” the demon said, “It’s fine. I...I appreciate it. I really do,” he stopped laughing, and his voice grew soft, 

“I really, really do, Dream.” 

They were staring into each other’s eyes now. George’s sorrowful brown eyes glimmered in a way that Dream hadn’t seen before, and he smiled to himself at the thought that George would have no idea that the angel’s eyes were a bright emerald color. 

The eye contact lasted far too long. Dream found himself wanting to lean into George, wanting to do everything in his power to wipe away the misery he could see in the other’s gaze. He wanted to, but he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. It was dangerous enough to be sitting next to him on the bed in such a relaxed manner.

He was surprised, to say the least when George’s eyes flickered down to his lips and he leaned in first, pressing his mouth against Dream’s in a warm kiss. 

Whether it was electricity or fire, Dream couldn’t tell, but it coursed through his veins and across his skin. His heart immediately started pounding, and he felt his head grow dizzy. He pushed back against George’s lips, finding a gentle rhythm. His ethics faltered, and he couldn’t care less that what he was doing was wrong. George’s kiss felt like golden sunlight on a cold winter’s day, warming his bones and stoking the hearth in his heart. He lifted a hand up to cup George’s cheek, but the demon pulled away with a strange velocity. 

“Wait. Leave.” 

“What? What did--”

“Get outside the boundary, now,” George growled. His hands twitched, and Dream saw a familiar violent flame growing in his eyes. 

He complied, hurriedly dashing to the other side of the doorway. He looked back at the demon, who was holding a fist so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. 

“I was going to lash at you again, Dream. If you come inside the boundary right now, I’ll,” his voice cracked pitifully, “I’ll try to kill you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be entirely George's perspective. Thanks for reading :]
> 
> Also, I went back and changed a few spelling errors, if you see any, please point them out to me! I hate when I have writing mistakes, yet I always write at 2 am when I'm sleep-deprived and out of it LMAO. 
> 
> Does anyone know how to stop google docs from correcting "Sapnap" to "subpoena"? xD

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you enjoyed this chapter! I'm really liking the angel/demon dynamic, it's fun to write. I typically see Dream as the demon in these types of stories, so I wanted to change it up a bit. I'm not sure how many chapters it will be, but I'm really excited about it!


End file.
